Page 112 of Bitter Poetry

One day, I’m going to do this slow and naked.

Just not today.

I slide my fingers out of her and, driven by an imperative to stake my claim, shove my pants down past my hips. My cock has passed beyond hard and into pain. I’m going to lose my goddamn mind if I don’t get inside her… I line up and push, feeling her flesh yield to mine, the hot inner walls caressing my length. I’m ready to detonate.

“Look at me.”

I cup her cheek, my hand trembling. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears and so much raw emotion, it’s enough to bring me to my knees. “You were so brave today, Carmela. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

I kiss her, closing my eyes, trying to block out the enticing image of me fucking her in a pool of Ettore’s blood. My hips move, sliding out and pumping back in. She moans into my mouth. I tighten my fingers on her jaw to keep her fucking still. Her answer is to hook her ankles around my ass and drag me deeper in.

I tear my lips from hers, lean up, and close my fingers around the delicate column of her throat. “You want it hot and fast, baby?”

“Please. Yes. Please.”

I indulge myself at her command, fucking into her with fast, rough strokes, tightening my fingers on her throat as I burn the image of her beneath me into my mind. I’m high on her, on her whispered moans and gasps, on her filthy gripping cunt, on the way her eyes never leave mine. But I need to get deeper. To leave a lasting ache where I’ve been, one that will remind her of what we did here for days.

I shift my hold, hooking my hands under her knees, and spread them up and out.

Her mouth pops open on a silent scream with the next thrust.

My grin feels a little feral.There, that’s the spot.I swear my dick gets even harder as I pound that magic spot and watch her come apart.

“That’s my good fucking girl.”

Her hot, tight pussy, and the image of her unraveling are a volatile combination. I’m gone for her and don’t ever want to be saved. My climax is inevitable, a boiling wave manifesting a tingle in the base of my spine before I empty into her, dumping hot cum at the entrance of her womb.

We are both breathing heavily.

Then I lift my head, and my eyes lock with Christian’s. He’s sitting casually in a carver chair that faces the bed, watching.

Tension slams into me and then cuts me loose just as quickly when I realize it’s not a threat. Then a dark, unwholesome sensation is burrowing into the center of my chest, and my heart beats a discordant rhythm. He is far too familiar and far too at ease. My brother was never entirely right, but this is unequivocally wrong.

“How does she feel?” he asks softly.

Carmela gasps. If I wasn’t pinning her to the bed, I’m sure she’d have levitated right off it.

“Hush. It’s okay.” Instinctively, I soothe her, cupping her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead. But all the while, I’m looking at Christian, taking him in. His pose may be relaxed, but his dark eyes are intense… feral even.

Not as unbothered as he’s trying to make out.

An unhealthy soup of rage, disbelief, and deep betrayal slam into me.

I’m still inside her.

Still. Fucking. Inside. Her.

Carmela shoves at my chest. I ignore her.

“You tell me. You’ve had more experience inside her pussy than I have.”

He smirks. It lights the fuse on the last of my sanity.

I want to fuck her again.

I want to fuck him up.

He’s my brother. He’s always had my back. But if he’s done what I think he’s done, I’m going to end the motherfucker.